locked inside my heart (your melody's an art)
by Glockenspielium
Summary: fitzsimmons appreciation week - day two: adventure (ədˈvɛntʃə) - an unusual and exciting or daring experience


She leaves them in her office under the guise of collecting forms and something about field exams, but it seems unlikely that Agent Weaver wouldn't already have the paperwork ready and prepared; unless she'd wanted to leave them alone together for a reason. Jemma would have mentioned this aloud, but one look from Fitz and she knows that he's considered this too.

"What do you think, then?" She offers, instead. Her mind was made up within moments of hearing the proposition. Surely, this was the chance they had been waiting for. "Sounds like it could be incredible!"

Fitz leans forward in the chair, resting his head against his hands for a moment before turning to her, face contorted in demonstration of his disdain.

"Yeah, right, sounds like it could be incredibly stupid," He shakes his head, "Sounds like it could be an incredibly clever way for us to both get killed." His eyebrows cinch together and her words are terse, ends rolling into face-paced beginnings, heat almost mistaken for anger instead of concern.

She knows that tone.

"Alright, I can see you're agitated by the mere suggestion-"

"Agitated? Oh, I'm not agitated, I'm perfectly clear-headed, Jemma." Her name is meant to reassure her, but as far as he can tell it does the opposite. Once Jemma has an idea in her head, it takes hold and persists; infuriatingly, adorably so. Perhaps more infuriatingly in this case.

"What part of this seems like a good idea? The part where we leave the best laboratory we've ever had, with the time and resources to pursue every disgusting biological endeavour you can think of, where we leave the nice, comfortable, apartment they've set up for us, despite strict regulations against cohabitation-"

"- that was more of a precautionary guideline really, they were just-"

"- to take off in a plane to literally anywhere on earth, with gun happy agents who'll probably not know a macrophage from a microfissure-"

"-you know operations agents aren't all-"

"- bullets flying overhead and aliens smashing through whatever facilities they have for us on that damned plane-"

The thought strikes her at almost the exact moment she opens her mouth. "Are you afraid of flying, Fitz?" She doesn't mean to sound critical, but her surprise barely leaves room for consolation.

"No. _No_? What- why would you suggest that?" He stands, pacing away from where their chairs are, and back again, and she has to turn and crane her neck to follow him. "I just don't see the point of throwing ourselves into almost certain danger, agonising pain, getting blown out of the sky and most likely facing a horrible death, and for what? Adventure?" He scoffs gently, before quietly adding. "I think things are plenty exciting here, thank you very much."

He finishes up by the window and pauses there, hands on the sill, still as if about to continue his rant, but since he doesn't say anything further. A moment later, Jemma rests a single hand onto his shoulder.

"You know I would never make you do anything you're not comfortable with." She follows his gaze out the window over the austere physics complex. "Fitz, it's okay. We don't have to go anywhere, not if it makes you so upset. I don't want that."

Her palm is light but warm against his shirt, and he brings one hand up to meet hers. They stand there, an easy silence comfortable between them, keeping watch, making choices, until he finally pats her hand and turns around.

"Alright, lets do it." He does his best not to snicker as her eyebrows shoot skyward and her hands make gleeful fists as she straightens with excitement.

"Really? Oh Fitz, it's going to be fantastic, I promise it will be!" Her bright eyes make it worth it. "You'll see, we'll be on real missions, discovering fantastic new creatures and you'll be inventing all kinds of field tech we'd never have even dreamed of stuck in here-

With a roll of his eyes, she calms down before he clamps a hand over her lips (again).

"Shut it, Simmons." But he's smiling back now. "I said yes, didn't I?"

It's not until, as Agent Weaver hands over the first of many forms to fill out, S.H.I.E.L.D. bureaucracy at it's finest, Jemma leans towards him, and whispers with a tiny, sly smile, so just Fitz can hear-

"And you know, we might even meet a real live monkey!"

-that he wonders if he might actually believe her.


End file.
